


Long time coming

by NonbinaryBlue



Series: Long time coming [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonbinaryBlue/pseuds/NonbinaryBlue
Summary: Life was unfair, all the newsies knew this, didn't change anything though. These boys were determined to survive no matter what. They were a family and they would stick together.Life before the strike. Discover how the newsies ended up how they did and how relationships developed.





	1. Another street rat

Jack was an obnoxious person. He knew that. He knew he was oblivious and loud and cheeky, he knew he was reckless and foolish and too smart for his own damn good. He also knew that he cared far too much and all these things combined often caused him to do stupid things. They may be the right thing to do, but they were still the stupid thing to do. And the thing about stupid things is they have the irritatingly consistent habit of getting you into trouble. Sometimes they even got others into trouble as well and Jack hated when that happened because he didn’t want other people to get in trouble for the stupid things he did. That wasn’t fair. However, after twelve years of life and four trips to the refuge, Jack had accepted that life wasn’t fair and you just had to find countless ways to deal with it. Jack was still searching for ways. The other boys that lived at the lodging house, in fact, all the kids who lived across New York City in a lodging house or a run-down home or on the unforgiving streets knew just how unfair life could be. Jack hated it. He hated when he saw the little six and seven-year-olds who were practically skin and bones, beg for money while he sold his papes. Hated how many newsies there were who had arrived bruised and beaten, who didn’t have mothers to hold them or money to feed themselves. He hated the refuge. Hated every goddamn thing about the vile place. But he didn’t let that hate fuel him. Instead, he tried to lead his life with his heart and head. It was important to be sympathetic and kind and caring and it was important to realise when someone was a sorry bastard who didn’t deserve the time of day. There was a motto he could live by or try to at least.  
Living this way, despite the number of times it got Jack into trouble, had lead to many good things to happen too. Like Crutchie. Little Crutchie who Jack had found one winter and by found he meant fell over and proceeded to get robbed by. Technically he hadn’t exactly got robbed, it wasn’t as if Crutchie had succeeded. He might have if the ground hadn’t been covered in ice or if he hadn’t been obviously sick or if he hadn’t been crippled. Actually, that wasn’t fair on Crutchie, he didn’t let his leg stop him from doing anything. But the ice and the sickness had and Jack had easily managed to catch up to him. If he hadn’t been fuelling himself with his heart at the time, he would have soaked the kid, regardless of him being a good two years younger than him and taken back his earnings. Though that wasn’t the type of person Jack Kelly was. Alternatively, Jack had instead kept hold of the tiny, struggling kid until he stopped fighting and once he was still had asked him what he was doing out on the streets in such terrible weather. And when the kid replied with ‘I ain’t got anywhere else I can go’, Jack had taken him back to the lodging house. He had spent the majority of the night arguing with the sort-of-leader of the Manhattan newsies, Tetch.

  
Tetch had ruled with his fists rather than his heart and had not appreciated the reckless eight-year-old, who had barely been living with them for a year, bringing back a sick, frail, crippled six-or-so-year-old. Jack hadn’t understood then, but Tetch had thought Jack had just brought back a corpse-in-waiting; he hadn’t thought Crutchie would survive the night but Crutchie had defied the odds and not only survived the night but beat his sickness by the end of the week.  
Jack wouldn’t say it out loud, but he had been glad when Tetch left. He wasn’t a good leader. He didn’t command respect or care for the boys, including the little ones. He just got the final say because he was the oldest and knew how to throw a punch. So when Tetch ran off to some part of Europe in the middle of the night with only a brief word to his second in command Poet, Jack had not been sad. Slight happiness had even filled him when caring, soft-spoken Poet took Tetch’s place.

Poet was a much better leader. He didn’t coddle any of them because that would do more harm than good, but he kept an observant eye. He understood that sometimes the young newsies did need someone to promise them they were safe and comfort them when nightmares haunted their sleep. He understood that everyone had off days where they just couldn’t quite keep up. He noticed how badly storms affected everyone and came up with a system that helped them all cope. He taught them all to accept and love each other as if they were related by blood. Taught them to not single out anyone for their differences. So Crutchie and Kid Blink weren’t treated differently for their disabilities. Nobody was picked on for having nightmares or for jumping at loud sounds. And everyone’s imperfections and oddities became an embraced part of themselves, often earning them their name. It had been Poet who had been out searching for Jack in the middle of a harsh winters night when he didn’t return to the lodging house. It had been Poet who welcomed Jack back after four months in the refuge with a smile and offer to attend his injuries. It had been Poet who kept a watchful eye on Jack and made sure someone was looking after him (that someone being Crutchie) when his mind was giving him hell. Had been Poet who had comforted Racetrack and Crutchie when Jack went missing again two weeks later and they had received word that he was back in the refuge. And it had been Poet who had recognised the changes in Jack when he returned once again. Noticed how he went in a happy, boisterous eight-year-old and came out a sarcastic, smart-aleck nine-year-old.

  
Because of this, Jack had no worry when he spotted a tiny, scarily thin, frightened, young girl, hunched up against a wall and knew he would end up helping her. He had almost finished selling his papes; there had been a lousy headline that day so Jack had relied on his ever-improving lying skills when he noticed her, shrinking back every time a person walked past. Debating whether he should finish selling his papes first or going over to her straight away, Jack had just stood in the middle of street thinking. He decided that it wouldn’t hurt to finish – he only had a couple left and there were lots of people about and he would still be able to keep an eye on her from a distance.

  
After selling his final paper to a kind-looking, rich lady, Jack made his cautious approach. At first, the girl just stared up at Jack looking scared out of her mind but she didn’t run, which Jack took as a good sign; a positive start.  
“Hey,” Jack greeted softly, crouching down in front of her. “That doesn’t seem like a great place to sleep”.  
“I can leave” She murmured, not looking Jack in the eye.  
“No, no. That’s not what I meant, just that it seems pretty uncomfortable and unsafe.” Jack explained.  
“It’s the only place I’ve got, well unless you count more uncomfortable and unsafe street. Cause if you do I’s got the entirety of Manhattan.” This time she actually looked at Jack as she spoke, still in a quiet murmur.  
“I could help if you want. I know a place you could stay as long as you can pay the rent, and it comes with a job!” Jack explained, smiling brightly.  
“Yeah? And what’s I got to do for you to receive it?” She asked, suspiciously, staring him down.  
Jack looked at the kid in a confused manner before replying. “Like I said: you gotta pay rent, but I don’t mind paying for ya until you’re going steady. You ain’t gotta do anything for me, promise.”  
The kid rolled her eyes at him before muttering, “That’s what they all say,” shifting away from him slightly.  
“Not me, kid. I just wanna help, swear on my life” Jack promised, using his finger to draw a cross over his heart.  
She looked unsure for a moment, staring at Jack as if she was searching for something. Seeming satisfied with what she found, the girl let a smile spread across her young face. Jack noticed she was missing one of her front teeth and it made her look extremely little – too little to be sleeping on the streets, especially for a girl.  
“Come on then.” Jack smiled, standing up and offering her his hand, which she took, pulling herself up.  
The first thing Jack noticed was she was reasonably tall for such a young face; whether she was a young kid who was tall or an older kid who looked young, for now, Jack couldn’t tell. He’d leave asking question till later. The second thing he noticed was the way she held herself: almost all her weight was on her left leg and she had her left arm pulled close to herself as if trying to keep it out of the way without hurting it. For now, Jack wasn’t going to question it, he had more pressing concerns to take care other, like getting her back to the lodging house and finding her some clothes that fitted as well as something to eat.  
“Let’s go”

  
The walk was slow, Jack noticed how every now and then the girl would wince slightly and that she had a very prominent limp. They walked in silence, the girl seemed to be directing all of her energy into not falling over, her leg must have been bashed pretty bad. Jack wanted to offer her help, but he knew how important pride and dignity was when you lived on the streets as well as knowing from Crutchie that sometimes he had the habit of over-worrying and that worry could be mistaken for pity; pity was never appreciated, sympathy and empathy maybe, but not pity. So for now, Jack let it be.  
They turned a corner and soon found themselves at the door of the lodging house. Kloppman was at the desk per usual. Jack very badly made an attempt to push the girl behind him in hope that Kloppman wouldn’t see, but the girl responded to being pushed by slapping Jack's arm extremely hard, drawing more attention to the pair had they just casually walked in.

  
“Kelly what are you up to now?” Kloppman asked, tiredly, eyes flickering to the girl, who was partly obscured by Jack. “Bringing in strays again? I hope you don’t plan on keeping everyone up arguing like thr last time you bought a new boy back. And he'll still need to pay rent.”  
“Y'know you should let me answer a question before moving onto the next, you’ll be surprised to find you might even learn something.” Kloppman just gave Jack an unimpressed look. “Alright, alright. I promise it won’t be like last time, Poet’s different to cranky old Tetch, he'll accept her with open arms. And I’ll be paying her rent, don’t you worry your delicate head about it.”  
Kloppman chose to ignore the quip, instead, asking “her?” with a raised eyebrow.  
“Yeah, girls can be street rats too, you know.”  
The girl had moved from being partly-behind Jack to standing next to him, clutching his side slightly and looking minutely terrified under Kloppman’s gaze.  
“Jack you know having a girl thrown in with a bunch of boys is just going to cause trouble, trouble I can’t afford! I suggest you find her somewhere else to stay.” Kloppman suggested.  
“She ain’t going to cause no trouble, look at her, she’s all skin and bones and bruises!” Jack protested, he was determined to win this argument even if he knew he ’d have to win a similar one with Poet later.  
“I ain’t going to cause trouble, promise sir” The girl spoke quietly, looking at Kloppman shyly and clinging to Jacks side a little tighter.  
Kloppman looked reluctant for a moment before waving his hand, “Go on up the stairs, but I ain’t going to help you convince that boy of yours to let her stay.”  
Smirking triumphantly Jack turned to head towards the stairs only to find the girl had let go of him and had stiffened and paled significantly at the mention of stairs. _Shit, stairs._ He had forgotten about that little issue. Smiling reassuringly, Jack turned to face the girl, offering her his hand which she cautiously took, leading her to the bottom of the stairs and away from Kloppman’s view.  
“You think you can make it up there or should I carry ya?”  
The girl had looked like Jack had personally insulted her mother at the mention of being carried, so Jack took that to mean she would get up the stairs by herself.

  
It took a good ten minutes and heck of a lot wincing and glaring at Jack as he hovered on the girls part, but they did manage to reach the top. Jack had hoped that the bedroom would be pretty empty however that was not the case. It must’ve been later than he thought as the majority of the newsies were there. Jack guessed there was little chance of sneaking the girl in unnoticed and delaying the inevitable confrontation with Poet like he had planned.

  
_Well, what’s the worse that could happen?_


	2. A new arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack underestimated how hard it would be to smuggle the girl into the firm room.

Turns out the worse thing that could have happened was as Jack tried to subtly and casually walk to his bunk with the girl close behind him he was spotted by Racetrack and Specs. Specs was a year older than Jack, he was tall and lean, with a mop of curly hair and wore a pair of extremely scratched spectacles; hence the name. Racetrack, on the other hand, was a year younger than Jack, he was lanky and hadn’t quite grown into his height properly. The Italian boy was energetic and had a bad habit of running his mouth off. He had earned his name not only for selling at the racetracks but also because the boy could run bloody fast.

  
Race had run up to Jack, a beaming grin stretched across his face, blabbering a greeting. His beaming grin quickly turned almost smug as he opened his mouth to say something before being cut off by Specs.

“You’re back late Jack, Poet ain’t happy. He’s waiting for you by ya bunk, I’s thinks he’s plannin’ on ambushing ya or something, just to give ya fair warning.” Specs warned, frowning slightly at Jack.

Jack just nodded in reply trying desperately to keep his alarm from showing on his face. As mature and caring as Specs was, he wasn’t the most observational person (Specs blamed it on his glasses whenever someone pointed it out or teased him) and had failed to notice the girl shyly hiding behind Jack. He would notice soon though if Jack didn’t get moving; Specs was blind not dumb.  
Jack had tried to sidestep the pair but as oblivious as Specs was, Racetrack, to his credit was not.

“Who’s ya friend Jack?” He asked curiously, trying to peer behind Jack and causing Specs to take notice of the mystery person.

“She ain’t nobody,” Jack said, quickly.

“She?” Racetrack asked, one of the eleven-year old’s signature smirks spreading across his face.

“Shit” Jack cursed.

“language” Specs scolded, “I thought it had been too long since you’d gotten yourself into trouble”

“Shove off Specs” Jack muttered, pushing the boy out of the way, marching towards his bunk, the girl following him hurriedly.

  
Like Specs had said, Poet was sat waiting for Jack on his bunk. He raised an eyebrow and Jack knew the lecture that was about to follow so Jack cut him off before he began.

“Don’t waste your breath Poet, I know the drill by now. I’m sorry, okay? I's know you’s don’t like me being late and I's know it’s for good reason and all that. So spare me the lecture.” 

Poet stood, arms crossed, face now contorted into a slight frown. Jack had forgotten how tall the boy was and how he did have the capability to be quite intimidating. Jack did his best not to waver, staring determinedly at the Manhattan leader. Poet's face softened slightly and he uncrossed his arms, placing a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“If you know all this then why do you continue to come back late? Do you at least have an excuse this time?” Poet asked, gently, lips quirking up into a small smile.

Instead of replying Jack brushed Poet's hand from his shoulder and stepped sideways, drawing Poet’s attention to the kid, who had remained silent since entering the dorm.

“I found a friend”

The girl stared shyly at Poet, eyes filled with caution and she was once again clutching Jack's side.

“We'll discuss this in a moment,” Poet said sternly in Jack's direction before crouching down so he was at the girl’s height and smiled. “How about we find you some clothes that fit a bit better, hmm? I’m afraid they won’t be perfect or anything fancy, but they’ll do their job. And then how about some food?”

The girl glanced at Jack, unsure, but then gave Poet a small nod.

“Alright then.” Poet smiled, standing. “Oi, Robin”

Robin came over from where he had been sat chatting with some of the other boys.

“Watcha want Poet?”

Robin was Poet's second-in-command. He was just as nice and specifically good with the younger newsies, especially when it came to teaching them how to read and write or sell papes. He was also the only one who could get away with being blunt and minutely (extremely) disrespectful to Poet.

“Jack here has brought home a friend in need of assistance. Reckon you could look after her while Jack finds her some clothes then has a little talk with me?” Poet asked, firm hand place on Jack’s shoulder.

“Sure thing Boss” Robin beamed, holding out a hand for the girl to take.

“Robin we’ve spoken about not calling me ‘Boss’. I’m not yours or anyone else’s boss.” Poet sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sending a questioning look in Jack's direction, to which he nodded reassuringly to, the girl accepted Robin's outstretched hand, placing her small hand in the eighteen-year old’s much bigger one.

“Of course, I’ll definitely stop calling you that, Boss.” Robin smirked, mockingly “Come on then lass, let’s start with getting you a bath, then I’ll take a look at those scratches and bruises.”

Jack watched as Robin gently led the girl to the bathroom, pushing newsies a lot less gently out of their way. The girl was definitely limping, it was pretty bad if Jack was being honest with himself, she was still holding her arm oddly and she kept shuffling closer to Robin whenever one of the other boys got too close. Robin would look after her, Jack could trust him, there was no reason for him to worry.

  
As soon as the pair went into the bathroom Poet rounded on Jack.

“Come on,” He said, before walking off in the direction of his room.

That was one of the perks of being the sort-of-leader, Poet got his own, separate room. Even if you could practically touch the opposite wall if you tried hard enough and it only had a small wardrobe, a desk and a bed in it, it was still solely his and had a window that led to a fire escape. Jack had a habit of climbing up there, one because it pissed off Poet and two because it helped clear his head after a stressful day.

  
Poet closed the door behind Jack before perching on his desk. He gestured for Jack to take a seat on the bed to which Jack obliged. 

“Poet, I- ” Jack began before Poet cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Jack. I know you have this need to help everyone and I like that about you, but you have to be careful. Sometimes you have to make sure you’re not causing trouble for those you’ve already helped.”

“Well, that was real Poetic” Jack mumbled under his breath. He often forgot that Poet had not gained his name writing poems, but rather because _the boy could spout some real poetic shit when he wanted to._

“Jack, I understand that the girl obviously needed help, you weren’t the only one who noticed how bashed up she was and I ain’t saying that you shouldn’t have brought her here, just you know having girls here causes problems. Real annoying problems.” Poet sighed.

He had a point, Jack would give him that. Whenever a girl did stay at the lodging house, though that was once in a blue moon and never for long, trouble always occurred. Most of the time, the girl would get fed up with the stares from hormonal boys as well as the constant (admittedly bad) flirting and would be gone as soon as she came. Normally after snapping at one if not all the boys. Or when they did stay longer, fights tended to break out. Boys got jealous and handled it by punching each other. There had even been one girl who broke a guys nose after he hit on her one too many times. Jack had found it hilarious.

Regardless of all that, those girls had been older than the girl Jack had found; this one was little. Little and underfed and worse for wear, that was. She wouldn’t cause trouble; the boys around her age weren’t interested in girls, instead, they’d probably want to make friends with her. Jack couldn’t find a valid reason that they couldn’t just treat her as they would treat a new newsie. He told Poet all that with a stubborn look plastered on his face.

  
Poet sighed, defeated, in response.

“Well it ain’t like I can turn her away is it now? She is still only a lil' un’” Poet shook his head slightly, probably at the fact he had let his emotions win against his logic. As much as he tried to conceal it, Poet had a soft spot for the younger newsies. “Come on. I said we’d find her some clothes.” Poet instructed, opening up the wardrobe and beginning to search through the odd assortment of old, second-hand, spare clothing. Hopping off the bed, Jack smiled triumphantly going over to help the boy.

* * *

 

It took them a good ten minutes to find some suitable clothes for the girl. It was starting to bug Jack that, despite having rescued her from the streets, he had failed to find out her name. Considering that his talk with Poet had lasted another ten minutes, overall, Jack had left the girl for around twenty minutes. Jack knew she would be fine; Robin was completely capable of looking after her for that amount of time, but still, Jack couldn’t help but worry. He had seen something in the little girl’s eyes that made him want to protect her from everything and anything.

“Come on then Cowboy, let’s go find your friend” Poet smiled, passing Jack the small pile of clothes.

Jack followed him out of the room, making his way towards the bathroom. It was getting late and the dorm room was a hell of a lot quieter, the little newsies and a good portion of the older ones having settled down for the night.

  
They found the girl wrapped in a tattered towel, hair dripping wet, sitting on a chair next to the newsies’ aged bathtub. Robin was crouched in front of her, seeming to have just finished assessing her injuries, a look of worry settled on his face. The expression put a sour taste in Jack’s mouth.

  
Poet rapped his knuckle on the wooden door, leaning against its frame and alerting Robin of their presence. Robin responded by standing, previous expression gone and replaced with a smile that didn’t seem to be completely general.

“Took you long enough” He teased, taking the small pile of badly folded clothes from Jack and placing them on the girl’s lap. “I'll get this one sorted out, we’s got a spare bed right?” Robin said to Poet, jerking his thumb in the girl’s direction. “Then, Poet, me and you’s need to have a chat.”

Poet nodded to his friend, leading Jack out of the bathroom, leaving Robin to look after the girl.

“She’s alright, ain’t she Poet? Jack queried, concerned once again.

“Well I don’t know Cowboy,” Poet huffed “despite what you and the other boys rumour, Robin and I can’t communicate telepathically.”

“Coulda fooled me” Jack muttered, evoking Poet into smacking him playfully with his hat. Jack stuck his tongue out at the older boy in retaliation.

“Offta bed with ya” Poet laughed “You’s still got work tomorrow.”

As Jack opened his mouth to protest, Poet hushed him.

“She’ll be fine Jack. However, you is gonna have cover for her rent. She sure as hell ain’t selling just yet. So from now on her money problems is your money problems” He paused, thinking. “ That is until Robin decides to adopt her, cause he will, he always does.”

  
Jack chuckled slightly. When Robin had first come to the lodging house, which was way before Jack (Robin had come when he seven so Jack would have been just a babe), he'd been given the nickname ‘Flames’ due to his auburn hair. As he got older he was given the far more affectionate name ‘Robin’ after one of the boys back then compared him taking care of the little ones like a bird taking care of her chicks.

  
Originally, after Tetch, Robin was meant to take over, despite Poet having been the current second-in-command, (the only reason he had that position was because of his age. Tetch and him didn’t really get along.), but Robin refused, saying if he became leader he would have to get all strict and stern with the lil' uns' and he really didn’t like the sound of that. Nobody really minded that Poet took over instead because he was nice and possessed the capability of telling someone off effectively. That and he would have obviously been Robin’s second-in-command anyway so it made little difference.

  
“Night Poet,” Jack said, climbing onto his bunk, making sure to check on Crutchie quickly who slept in the bunk below.

  
“Night Jack” Poet whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated. Let me know what you think and how I can improve.


	3. Robin's past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin helps clean the girl up and checks over her injuries. He can't help but think of his past.

Robin turned to face the little girl as he closed the bathroom door. Cautiously she stared back at him, unsure. Trying to soothe her worry, Robin smiled at her; he had stopped counting the number of new newsies he had welcomed long ago, at this point it was all routine. There had been so many, all with individual but strangely similar backgrounds and pasts haunting them, of all ages, though he often only assisted the younger ones. He had welcomed Jack and Race when they had stumbled in, had welcomed Specs, had welcomed Crutchie plus many more and every single one of them had had the same look in their eyes as the girl had now. The same fear, the same uncertainty and the same confusion at being treated kindly and not as if they were the scum of the earth.

 

Carefully he took a step towards her and she took a step back. Shaking his head slightly, Robin sighed quietly.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, alright? I’m here to help.” He offered the girl a hand to shake.

She continued to look unsure for a moment or two before accepting.

“The names Robin. Nice to meet ya” Robin beamed.

“Blue” The girl whispered in return.

“Well then Blue let’s run you a bath. ‘Fraid we ain’t really got hot water but in this heat it shouldn’t matter too much.” Robin smiled, going over to the bath and turning the taps on.

When the bath was run Robin turned around so the girl could strip. She let out what Robin could only assume was a whimper and he furrowed his brow slightly. Hearing the sound of splashing water as the girl sat down in the bath, Robin turned around, passing her a rag he had grabbed for her to wash with. Her small chest and back was scattered with bruises and cuts, though nothing looked too deep, it was just that there was a lot. Once again he couldn’t prevent himself frowning.  
Welcoming newsies was something he loved. Loved helping them settle in and adjust. Loved teaching them to read and write as well as how to sell papes.

  
He had come from a big family, the youngest of five children. By the time he was born both his parents were well on their way. Money was scarce, his dad not being able to work after injuring his back permanently while lifting heavy boxes, Robin’s older siblings were the families only source of income. But even that hadn’t been enough. His sister, the eldest out of the five and the only girl, got knocked up by some boy she had been seeing. She was twenty-six, old enough marry.

  
The pair had had a quiet wedding, just immediate family inside the church. His sister hadn’t loved the boy, that much even six-year-old Robin had been able to see. At the time Robin had felt that the boy had stolen his sister away from him, though now he thought that might have just been his personal viewpoint. The family could no longer rely on her for money and his father had failed at getting a new job to make up for it; no one wanted to hire a fragile old man. Within a month the family was tossed to the streets, forced to sleep in alleyways and by shop fronts. Things only got worse from there. A month later his sister returned, she had lost the baby, and the boy, no longer tied to her with the obligations of impending fatherhood, had run off in the night. She no longer had a job because her husband had made her quit (he had believed in the absolute bullshit belief that women had no place working), neither did Robin's eldest brother, the other two brothers barely bringing enough money in for dinner each night. A week after that, the cold took their mother in the night, they had had no choice but to leave her body in an alleyway. Two days later their father went out in search of a job and never came back.

  
After that things had gotten better, his eldest sister managed to find work that paid reasonably and they managed to get a one-room apartment. Then a letter arrived from one of their mother’s sisters who lived in England inviting them to come live with her and her husband. The thing was that due to the expenses of post the sisters often didn’t communicate for long stretches of time and they often didn’t get the chance to update each other in their lives. It had taken weeks for his siblings to save up enough to inform their aunt of their mothers passing and it just wasn’t appropriate to mention in such a letter that they had gained another brother in the time they had lost touch.

  
Tickets for England were expensive, there was no way the four of them would be able to make enough money for five tickets. Lucky for them their aunt had sent the money for tickets, unlucky for Robin, her not knowing of his existence had meant she had only sent enough money for four tickets.  
His youngest older brother had been almost eighteen, Robin’s siblings were all adults who should have been starting their own separate lives, but they had been stuck in a cruel city, stuck with a brother that could supply them with nothing and took up money and food.  
One morning Robin awoke to a room absent of siblings and the little personal belongings they had owned.

  
Opportunity had struck and Robin could not blame his family for latching on to it even though it had meant abandoning him. In fact, he was almost grateful because had they not left six-almost-seven-year-old him to fend for himself he would never have met Poet which would have meant he never found the newsies. He may have lost one family but he had found a far better one.

  
And though he never has and never will hold a grudge against his own flesh and blood, they had only been doing what they needed to in order to survive, Robin had promised himself he would be a better big brother to anyone who needed it.

  
So as he helped Blue out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel, he couldn’t prevent the anger that bubbled up inside him as he looked at her timid skinny frame, hunched in, every muscle tense. She was scared.

“Relax. Remember what I said? I ain’t gonna hurt you and just so you know neither is anyone else here.” Robin cooed, easing her into a chair.

Slowly but visibly her shoulders relaxed and she lost some of her scared look, however she still looked uncomfortable almost as if she was pretending to not be in a significant amount of pain.

“Show me where it hurts” Robin instructed, softly.

Blue shook her head.

“It don’t hurt, not really anyway.” She assured hurriedly.

“Yes, it does.” Robin pressed.

Blue stared at him, almost pleading for him to let it go, before relenting. Carefully she used her right hand to ease her left arm out of the towel, tucking the towel under her armpit so it didn’t fall down. Robin inhaled sharply, eyes flickering to Blue's face before back to her arm.

“Jesus Christ” Robin whispered. “How? When?”

“Been like that since I was six. There was an in—” she cut herself off, shaking her head, “There was an accident.”

Robin tore his gaze from her arm meeting her eyes.

“How old are you now? Or are you not sure?” Robin asked.

“I’m ten” She replied with certainty.

“How long have you been livin’ on the streets?”

Blue fidgeted uncomfortably for a minute, pulling her arm out of Robins gentle grasp and moving it so it was covered by the towel.

“Since I was six.”

Robin nodded, he had guessed as much. It was similar to what had happened to Crutchie; he had contracted polio when he was five and even though it hadn’t killed him it had left him crippled. Children were expensive to supply for as it was and that was without them being crippled. His father had brought him to the middle of the Brooklyn bridge, telling him to wait there before walking away and never coming back.

  
It was a hard life for the poor, Robin empathized with that, and that it usually caused people to do terrible things in order to survive. And there were some things Robin understood such as stealing food to provide for starving children or improving the truth in order to sell papes, but there were other things that Robin would always question. Like leaving your sick kid to the mercy of the streets or selling your eight-year-old to a looming shadow down a dirty street that’ll put them to work in a bed.

 

He often wondered how he despised Crutchie's father so greatly yet did not resent his own siblings. Crutchie’s father had abandoned Crutchie like they had abandoned Robin. He had concluded that it wasn’t the same to leave a kid who could barely walk and leaving one who could walk just fine.

“Can you still use it?” Robin questioned.

Blue hesitated, thinking how best to answer.

“Sorta. I’s can kinda grip stuff with it but not very well and not for too long. I can’t straighten it fully or bend it fully, but it works well enough” She paused “Well not so much in the winter.”

“Okay” Robin replied, making a mental note to discuss this with Poet later. He sure it wouldn’t be too much of an issue but still, he felt it would be best to talk to Poet.

“I’s don’t want to cause you any trouble and it’s fine if you don’t, but I’s was wonderin’ if you have anything I could wrap it in. See, I likes to keep it covered, stops people staring and asking questions” Blue rambled, looking everywhere but in Robin’s direction.

“Sure. Let me go ask Patch. I’s sure he’ll have something.” Robin assured, standing up, “I’ll be right back.”

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he scanned the room for Patch. The boy had a habit of collecting fabric scraps that he thought might come in handy. He was the eldest of the trio of brothers that often stayed at the lodging house, the other two being Stitch and little Buttons. Stitch, like his name suggested, was real good at stitching and often readjusted the newsies clothes when they got too small. Buttons had originally be called that because the always smiling, gap-toothed nine-year-old had a button nose but later started collecting buttons for his older brothers to use. The brothers actually had several other siblings and a pair of folks as well but chose to spend the odd night at the lodging to ‘escape the madness of family’. Robin hoped tonight was one of the nights.

  
Unable to prevent his face from lighting up when he spotted the boy sat at a table with a drowsy looking Buttons on his lap, Robin weaved his way through the newsies.

“Heya Robin” Patch greeted, smiling.

Buttons, who was definitely half asleep and had his thumb in his mouth, kind of half-waved, mumbling something that Robin couldn’t make out.

“Heya Patch, heya Buttons,” Robin greeted in return, ruffling both boys hair affectionately, causing Buttons to mumble in annoyance, thumb still in mouth. “Patch, I’s was wondering if you got any fabric I could use. Something that could cover an arm.”

“Yeah, I do. Why?” Patch asked curiously, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“We's got a new newsie, a little one, year older than Buttons and they got a bad injury on their arm that they's want to cover up” explained Robin.

Considering for a moment, Patch nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, gimme a second” Patch stood up, lifting Buttons up who instantly rested his head on his brother’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist sleepily.

He went over to the bed he shared with Buttons (it was cheaper that way and Buttons was only small so it made little difference), placing his little brother down gently before tucking him in and bending down to look under the bed. He pulled out a box. Brushing himself off he stood up, walking back over to where Robin was stood, handing him the box.

“Have a look in there”

“Thanks Patch” Robin said accepting the box and sitting down at the table, starting to rummage through it.

“So, a newsie? I's sure I didn’t see no one’ Patch asked, rocking on the balls of his feet.

‘Jack brought them in” Robin answered simply not looking up.

Patch chuckled slightly at that. “He ain’t brought another crip off the streets, has he?” he joked good-naturedly.

Robin stopped what he was doing, this time looking up at Patch, giving him all the answer he needed.

Patch’s eyes widened slightly and he slid into the chair beside Robin, leaning in. “He has? That damn boy! What’s he like?” He said, keeping his voice low and leaning back in his chair. Robin continued his search through the box

.“She.” He corrected quietly. 

“She!” Patch exclaimed, resulting in him being hushed by Robin.

“Keep it down. I don’t think Poet wants everyone knowing yet and the lass is terrified already she don’t need to be ambushed by a bunch of overly enthusiastic hooligans”

“I ain’t got no clue what en-foo-see-attic means.” Patch pointed out, “And alright I’ll keep it to myself.” He promised.

Robin rolled his eyes at the boys bad pronunciation about to say something snarky in response but stopped himself as he found a suitable piece of fabric. Taking the piece out of the box and tucking it in his pocket, he put all the pieces back into the box, returning it to Patch. Standing he thanked Poet before turning to address the rest of the newsies,

“Oi! You lot, into bed.” He was met with several grumbles. “Don’t you be all grumblin' to me, you's all got papes to sell tomorrow, so get your asses into bed”

Thanking Patch once again, Robin headed back to the bathroom. Blue hadn’t moved from the chair, the towel still wrapped around her tightly, her long hair dripping water onto the floor.

“Sorry I took so long” Robin apologised, passing her the fabric. “Here you go, this should work.”

Gratefully, Blue accepted the strip and attempted to wrap it around her arm. It was fiddly and after several failed attempts she asked Robin, almost sheepishly, if he could help her, to which he obviously replied with “of course”.

  
Being as gentle as he could possibly be, Robin wrapped her arm up with mumbled fingers, tucking the ends in so it wouldn’t end up unwinding. Once he was done, Blue mumbled her gratitude.

“You ain’t hurt anywhere else, is you?” Robin checked, convinced he had seen her limping earlier.

Blue began to shake her head, but stopped, looking uncertain.

“Well you see, there was another accident” She admitted. “I tangled with a wagon and hurt my leg. It ain’t nothing serious. Not nearly as bad as my arm, promise.

“Can I see?”

Blue shook her head in reply and Robin sighted deeply

“You’ve gotta let me help you. Show a little bit of trust, okay? I know that ain’t always easy and I don’t know anything about where ya from, but I’m saying, here and now, it ain’t gonna hurt to trust me” Robin explained earnestly.

Robin knew the drill by now. Little kids were always wary at first, a lot of them aware they didn’t quite know how to accurately judge a person’s character, but eventually, with a hell of a lot of perseverance on Robin's part, they opened up. They become trusting and accepted the help being offered to them.

  
Taking a moment to turn what Robin said around inside her brain, Blue, with shaking hands, pulled the towel up enough to reveal her leg. There wasn’t as much scarring as there was on her arm, but it was still slightly twisted inwards, not as badly as Crutchie's but enough that it was awkward and probably still hurt. Robin crouched down in front of her and ran his fingers over it, checking everything felt okay and not out of place.

“It’s the weather that causes most of the problems. It goes all stiff when its cold, sometimes I can’t even walk. It hurts every now and then, too, normally if I’ve used it too much. It’s better in the summer. I can run on it at points! It ain’t no problem.” Blue babbled.

“Does it hurt now?”

Blue shook her head.

“No, it sorta aches. It was hurting earlier but not any more.”

Nodding slowly, Robin let go of her leg and she dropped the towel so it was covering it once again. He remained crouching, frowning, thinking, worrying.  
It was at that moment the sound of knuckles rapping on the door caught his attention and he turned to see Poet leaning against the doorframe smirking. Robin stood and saw that Jack was standing behind his friend hiding a small pile of clothes. He replaced his look of worry with a smile that wasn’t completely all there.

“Took you long enough”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment/ leave kudos as they are utterly appreciated.  
> This chapter is a bit longer than the first two, I just seemed to always have more to add!  
> Let me know if ive left any mistakes.


	4. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gay.

After saying goodnight to Jack, Poet returned to the bathroom. The girl had changed into her new clothes. He couldn’t help but think it odd to see a girl in trousers, but he knew that was just because he was used to seeing them in flouncy skirts and dresses. He hoped she wouldn’t get in trouble, he had heard stories about women being arrested or assaulted for doing such a thing. For now, trousers were her only option; they didn’t get girls staying frequently enough to have spare skirts.

“What’cha think, Poet? Don’t she smart’n up alright?” Robin asked, coming over to stand by Poet and resting an elbow on him which Poet shrugged off on reflex. Robin had an irritating habit of doing that, it was his way of reminding Poet of their height difference even though the difference was _practically_ nothing and Poet constantly pointed this out to him.

“She’s looking like a real newsie,” Poet replied, smiling at the girl.

“Ya hear that Blue? You’s got the boss’ approval.” Robin laughed, clapping Poet on the back.

The girl – Blue – blushed in response dropping her gaze to the floor.

Choosing to ignore Robin's use of the word “boss”, Poet instead inquired, “So that’s your name, huh? Blue”

“Shit!- ” Robin’s eyes widened and Poet glared at his friend “I mean... damn?” Robin tried to amend and Poet couldn’t help but facepalm.

“That ain’t no better Robin. At least now I know who taught the lil'uns to swear” Poet mumbled.

“That was an accident!” Robin protested “I didn’t realise they listened when I cursed. Anyways, what I was going to say before that minor palaver was that I forgot introductions! Blue-” the girl who had been chuckling quietly at the boys’ previous exchange stopped abruptly at the mention of her name “- this is Poet. Poet this is Blue.”

“Robin she has already met me.” Poet sighed, crouching down to Blue's height regardless and gently shaking her hand.

“Yeah, but did you tell her your name?” Robin pressed.

Poet sighed again and made an exasperated look in Blue's direction which made her giggle and cover her smile with her hand.

“No” he admitted.

“Exactly!” Robin exclaimed.

Shaking his head, Poet stood. “You’ll have to excuse Robin, he has a complete disregard of authority and takes pleasure in undermining everything I say.”

“False” Robin interjected, causing Poet to make another face at Blue, causing her to start giggling again. “I do not have a complete disregard for authority... just your authority.” He corrected.

“Well, maybe you should consider what that teaches the lil'uns.” Poet pointed out, jabbing a finger accusingly at his friend.

“Don’t worry boss, they know everyone has ta listen to ya _and_ they know I’m the exception to that rule” Robin assured.

“Robin!” Poet exclaimed.

“What?” He replied mimicking Poet's tone.

Poet took a deep breath in before exhaling slowly, calming himself.

“Nevermind. This isn’t the time for this anyway.” He turned to face Blue, exasperation still apparent in his eyes but genuinely smiling nevertheless. “I bet ya could do with something to eat”

Blue nodded eagerly.

“Off you go then Robin” Poet smirked, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.  
Robin stuck his tongue out at him and Poet simply raised an eyebrow at him in response still smirking.

  
As soon as Robin had left, Poet collapsed into the chair by the bathtub and Blue shuffled over to stand beside him.

“Y’know, I don’t know why I was so worried about putting up with you causing trouble when I constantly put up with him. You’re more well-behaved than he is and you’re, what? Nine?”

“Ten” Blue corrected.

“Ten. He’s eighteen!”

  
A momentary silence fell upon the two only for Blue to break it.

“He’s funny.”

“Yes, he is” Poet agreed, chuckling.

“He’s pretty”

Poet chuckled again, this time internally agreeing. Yes, he really is. Robin was pretty and Robin knew he was pretty too.

“I like Robin,” Blue said.

“I like Robin too”

“I like you as well”

“Do you now? Well it's a good thing that I like you back, now, isn’t it.” Poet laughed, ruffling Blue's damp hair playfully.

Blue’s face lit up.

“That means we can be friends” she beamed.

“Does it really?” Poet enquired teasingly, grinning broadly at Blue's childish innocence.  
Blue nodded happily in response.

“Now what’s got you two so chipper?” Robin’s voice interrupted. “You talking about me behind my back?”

“Me and Poet are friends!” Blue grinned.

“And what ‘bout me and you? Are you betraying me for this lowlife?” Robin teased, placing a hand over his heart in mock horror.

“No, no. Course not, we's friends too” Blue assured, looking very serious which was an amusing expression on such a young face.

“Yeah I know, I is just messin’ with ya” Robin laughed.

“Oh, that's good cause I thinks you is funny and pretty” She smiled then added as an afterthought, “Poet thinks so too”

Poet felt himself blush and Robin's highly amused expression was not helping.

“Actually I did not agree with the second part” Poet corrected, embarrassed and still flushed red.

Blue turned to face him looking very worried.  
“You don’t think Robin is pretty?” she asked in a small voice.

Poet stammered, unsure as to what to say and his situation was not being helped with Robin mouthing: _yeah Poet, don’t you think Robin's pretty_ behind Blue's back. Catching sight of the food in Robin’s arms he quickly changed the subject.

“Look! Robin brought back food.”

That caught Blue's attention, her face lighting up. How hungry was this kid?

“Oh, yeah,” Robin said as if only just remembering. “It's only some bread and cheese cause you gotta get to bed and breakfast will be soon enough.” Robin explained, passing Blue the food who accepted it graciously.

“Thank you. This is more than I’ve had in the past three weeks”

Robin and Poet shared a look.

  
As Blue ate, Robin went to check that they definitely had an empty bed, exiting by ruffling Blue's hair and throwing Poet a cheeky wink; a reminder that Robin definitely had _not_ forgotten about their previous conversation.

  
By the time he had returned confirming that they did indeed have a bed, Blue had finished eating and was attempting to stifle yawns.

“Well Blue, I guess you better be getting off to bed,” Robin said, chuckling at Blue’s sleepy murmur. The kid seemed to have fallen half-asleep right where she was standing.

Robin scooped her up and carried her out of the bathroom, Poet following behind them, a fond smile playing on his lips. Robin tucked her into bed and she curled up before her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out.

“Come on, you said you wanted to talk to me ‘bout somethin’,” Poet whispered, making his way towards his room, Robin nodding in reply before following.

  
Once they were in the room and had closed the door, Robin promptly flopped face-first onto Poet’s bed. Rolling his eyes at his friend, Poet perched on his desk.

“So what did you need to talk to me about?” Poet asked.

Rolling onto his back so he could look at Poet, Robin couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“You think I’m pretty”

Poet clicked his tongue, “Robin you know I think you’re pretty, I’ve told you more times than I can count.” That was true. Robin was extremely pretty in Poet’s opinion with slightly too long auburn curls and a freckle-splattered face, so he made a habit of informing his friend of this whenever they had a moment alone. “And that was not what you wanted to talk to me about.”

Robin’s grin just grew at that and he sat up, twisting to fully face his friend.

“We’ll talk about that thing in a minute, right now I’d like to simply bask in the ever-so-accurate compliment,” Robin smirked.

“So modest”

“Shut up”

“Make me”

That was all the invitation Robin needed as he sprung from the bed and quickly had Poet trapped backed up against the wall. There was a moment of brief hesitation in which Robin's brown eyes gazed into Poet's grey eyes that were gazing right back with the same adoration sparking in them. That moment was quickly shattered and replaced by another as Robin dipped down and kissed Poet, passion-fuelled and Poet kissed him back returning that passion. Poet never tired of kissing Robin and never would.

  
Eleven years they had known each other and were friends from the moment they met. Friends for six years and then they realised that perhaps the longing glances and lingering touches meant they wanted something more. So with tear-filled confessions and fearful whispers about the consequences, they became lovers.

  
Tetch had been in charge at the time and the then-nineteen-year-old had made it very clear what his views about queers were. They had been terrified and when Poet became second-in-command a year later everything had become even riskier. But it was worth it. Robin had been there to comfort and hold Poet when he was stressed and upset over the multiple Race and Jack ordeals. Was there to support him when he replaced Tetch when they were fifteen and continued to support him after. And Poet supported Robin in return. They loved each other and no stupid prejudice law was going to change that.

  
As Robin pulled away and instead stared at Poet, eyes filled with love, Poet couldn’t help but smile. He would happily stay like this forever, but then he remembered he had responsibilities and his face became serious, triggering his lovers face to drop slightly in disappointment.

“There was something you needed to tell me.” Poet prodded.

Robin sighed heavily, pushing away from the wall and returning to the bed, however, this time he simply perched on it rather than flopping onto it.

“Way to kill the mood, Poet”

Poet smiled wistfully. He understood Robin’s annoyance; they rarely got alone time where they could just be in love, it seemed that the newsies always came first. Actually not “seemed”, they did. Both boys had accepted that quickly enough. They were in charge and responsible first and lovers second.

  
“You know how it is,” He said gently, smiling at Robin, hating the glum expression on his face.

“Yeah, I do” Robin relented. “The thing, it’s about Blue”

“What is it?” Poet questioned.

“It seems that Cowboy has a thing for bringing back Crips”

Well, that was...interesting. Poet had thought Blue had been holding herself oddly, in fact, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t guessed that already.

“The lass’ got a busted leg _and_ arm” Robin informed, emphasis on the ‘and’.

“How bad is it?”

“She wouldn’t let me look at either of them for too long, but she said her leg depends on the weather and if she exerts herself but her arm... It ain't good Poet, she says she can use it enough to get by, but... Poet, I've seen it and I dread to think how it got like that." Poet wasn’t sure what to make of the expression that fell upon Robin's face, "She's ten. Only ten."

Poet, sliding off the desk, went over to his friend and placed a reassuring hand on Robin's shoulder. He got like this sometimes. Actually, a lot of times. So many of the newsies came to the lodging-house with permanent mental and physical scars and it upset Robin. He cared too much. This was routine by now: Robin would discover some awful thing about a newsies’ past and Poet would comfort him and offer advice on how to help that newsie to the best of their limited ability.

“She'll be alright. She’s got the newsies now. They look out for and adore Crutchie, don’t they? They’ll do the same for Blue. Promise.” Poet reassured and Robin nodded then smiled in response.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’s got her back.” Robin agreed before yawning. “I’m exhausted. You gonna kick me out or do I get the honour of sharing a bed with my dashing sweetheart?”

Poet playfully shoved Robin - the prat.

“Shut up, you ass, or I _will_ make you sleep in ya own bed” Poet threatened teasingly, laying down on the bed and tugging Robin down with him.

As soon as the pair were tucked comfortably under the small blanket, Poet wrapped his arms around Robin on reflex, pulling him closer. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Robin's neck.

“I love you” he whispered, only being heard due to such close proximity.

“Love you too”

 

They were content for the moment; a peaceful night to make up for the chaos they would wake up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact: I didn't plan to put Robin and Poet together but then I read the last chapters to my baby sis and her response was "are they gay for each other?". So now they're gay for each other.
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments even if it is just to point out a mistake for me to correct.


	5. Day in, day out

Things had started off as usual. Racetrack had woken up before all the other boys, before the morning bell and had gone for a run like he did every other morning. The sun was just awakening and the air was warm, he loved this time of year. It was perfect in so many ways. The air seemed cleaner, fresher, the sun released just the right amount of heat, the breeze was light, wildlife flourished and spirits were high. Racetrack depended on this time of year. He _needed_ it. Relied on it to allow him to escape the bitterness and sorrow in his life.

  
Returning from his enjoyable run, Race had slipped back into the dorm room as quietly as possible as everyone was still fast asleep. Or so he thought.

  
He had just manoeuvred his way successfully back to his bunk when he heard a soft _thump_. The sound of someone almost definitely falling out of bed. A miserable sigh followed the first sound – that had gotten Race's full attention. Following the sound, he discovered the girl Jack had brought back with him the evening before sitting on the floor and seeming to be in distress (though Race wasn’t completely sure about the distress part as she was facing away from him).

“Hey, you alright?”

The girl’s head promptly snapped in his direction at the noise of his hushed voice; she looked utterly panicked.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” Race apologized

“My leg’s not working” was her blunt reply.

Race didn’t really know how to respond to that, so silently he just lifted her off the floor and safely onto her bed before sitting beside her. It was far too easy. Lifting her that was. Race, though he didn’t like admitting it, wasn’t particularly strong, he was well on his way to becoming a gangly teenager with too long limbs and awkward angles. So he was surprised to find she was extremely light as well as extremely thin. Even so, she was still obviously reasonably tall, significantly shorter than him but most kids his age were. Race reckoned she was a couple years younger than him at the most.

“Thank you” she whispered graciously.

“No problem” Race dismissed the gratitude; he never really knew what to do with it. “I’m Racetrack. Also known as Race.” He beamed, offering her a hand confidently.

She shook it meekly before replying with“Blue”.

“Nice ta meet ya. We sorta met last night when Jack brought you in, remember?”

Blue nodded noncommittally.

“What were you doing up so early? Mornin' bell ain’t even rung yet.”

“I’s didn’t want no one to stare or notice my leg or somethin’” Blue admitted. “And it was achin’. Woke me up”

“You hurt it?” Racetrack queried.

“Couple years ago. It ain’t got better though” Blue explained.

“Oh, so you’re a cr—”

Race was abruptly cut off by Blue.

“Don’t call me that!” She hissed.

“Alright, alright,” Race said, putting his hands up in surrender. “keep your voice down or you’ll wake up the others”

“Sorry” She whispered.

“Don’t ya worry bout it. Anyways, how old are ya kid?”

Blue glanced at Race confused and unsure at the sudden change in subject and quick dismissal of her apology.

“Ten.”

“Thought you's was younger than that! I is eleven.”

Not quite believing that he was only eleven, Blue responded by eyeing Race with suspicion. Race chuckled at her uncertainty, making sure to keep his volume down as to not wake any of the other boys.

“Promise I’m telling the truth, I's just tall. Swear it.” Race tried to convince her, amusement apparent in his tone.

“I's tall too but you thought I was younger” Blue accused.

“Yeah, well, I ain’t properly seen you stood up and you's is all thin and fragile looking. Makes you look younger.” Race defended himself.

“You try livin’ on the streets with no money and no food and see how strong you look.” Blue snapped.

“Kid, I have and I’ve been in a place where things are even worse.” Racetrack shook his head sadly.

Simply indirectly mentioning the place stirred dark, painful memories he would rather forget. Bloody, stinking refuge.

“Sorry” Blue murmured guiltily.

  
“Forget it” Race dismissed once again.

This time it was Blue who changed the subject.

“Why are you up?” She asked.

“Always am. I like runnin’ first thing in the mornin', clears my head and all that.” Race explained then added as an afterthought: “Don’t tell Poet or Robin though – actually don’t tell Jack either. See, those three will take care of you real good but they have a habit of being a bit protective.”

“But runnin' ain’t gonna hurt no one. Why would they care?” Blue questioned confused.

Race sighed heavily, he should have guessed she would question him. He shouldn’t have said anything, him and always running off his mouth. Gets him into all types of situations- good and bad.

  
What was the harm in telling in her? He didn’t have to tell her everything, in fact, he could tell her barely anything. And dismissing it would just raise more tricky questions.

“You know how I said I'd been somewhere worse than the streets?” Race began.

A nod.

“Yeah, well, that place is called the Refuge. Real hellhole run by the devil ‘imself: Snyder the Spider. The place is meant to help get underage kids back on their feet, a jail of sorts but of course like every system aimed for the nobody’s, it don’t work.” Race paused to take a deep breath, forcing down any emotion and turning his voice into a monotone. “See, Snyder just takes any money the gover’ment gives him instead of usin' it to help the kids in his authority. And the fact is, the more kids he brings in the more money he gets. So him and his goons will take anybody; they’ll swipe any poor, innocent sod from the streets if it means money in their pockets.”

Race spared a glance at Blue, having avoided looking at her throughout his explanation. She looked sombre, serious as if what Race said did not surprise her; a look a ten-year-old should never wear — well neither should an eleven-year-old but Race never dwelled on his lost innocence.

  
He wanted her to stop looking like that. He wanted her to go back to the shy-smiling kid she was a minute ago. So, having years of practice, he switched the little switch he had masterfully created that turned on the lopsided grin and witty attitude and turned off any irritating, painful feelings and memories. Much easier.

“Don’t worry though kid” Race laughed, ruffling her hair playfully, grin stretched wide. Blue’s sombre face quickly morphed into a pouty one, her shoving him away good-naturedly. “Just stick with one of the older boys, they’ll protect ya”

“I can protect myself!” Blue protested.

“I know kid, I know. But surely it’ll be nice knowing for once someone else has ya back just in case?” Race pointed out, slinging an arm around her shoulders which, to his surprise, she leaned into.

  
Race decided he was going to look after this little kid. Sure they were only around a year younger than him, but that didn’t matter, Jack was only a year older than Race and he always looking out for him. Blue was sweet and respectful and curious and unaware of the life of a newsie. And Race trusted Jack’s judgement; if Jack felt that it was a good idea to let Blue be a newsie then, for once in his life, Race wasn’t going to argue against that. Better yet, Crutchie might enjoy having someone who understood all the things the other boys – Race and even Jack, included, didn’t understand.

  
The pair stayed comfortably cuddled together for a moment, content in their new unspoken friendship. Just two kids, ten and eleven, avoiding the ever-creeping day ahead. However the ever-creeping day was relentless and the morning bell soon rang, sparking the lodging houses into sluggish activity. The bell sparked a question in Racetrack’s head.

“You sellin' today?” he asked, then added as an afterthought, “You don’t hafta if ya legs hurtin’ or somethin’.”

“No, no, I really wanna. My legs fine” Blue said, bending her leg multiple time to prove her point (Race pretended not to see her wince the first few tries). Blue face dropped upon realising, “I don’t got any money to buy papes though”.

“Don’t worry bout it.” Race reassured, confident. “Robin or Jack or someone will cover ya till you got money for yourself.”

  
It was at that moment little Sniper chose to push his way through the rush of newsies running in every direction and approach the pair, hat askew and hair ruffled underneath it as per usual. Some of the buttons of his shirt were done up wrong and his sleeves were rolled up unevenly. The kid had a pretty accurate shot when it came to throwing things or shooting them out of Finch's slingshot but Race had seen the way the eight-year-old’s hands would shake when they tried to do simple things like buttoning a shirt or holding a pencil. Rumpled appearance set aside, Sniper was smiling nevertheless which was actually out of the norm; the kid was often very reserved and you would have to strain to hear him. Some of the other younger boys such as JoJo, Henry and Buttons were pretty good at bringing the boy out of his shell for short bursts. The kid had taken a strange fondness to Race and Finch. Neither of the older boys were sure why but they both did there best to be nice to him. Race did his best to filter what came out of his mouth a significant amount more than he would normally and Finch would let him play with his precious slingshot. It was doing that or dealing with a not-angry-just-disappointed momma Robin shaking his head and giving them that _look_.

  
Race hated that _look_ because it made him feel like a stupid, immature child and sure, maybe he had the tendency to do stupid things and maybe he was only around a year older than the group of newsies that were referred to as the “lil’uns”, but he had gone through enough to not be treated like a baby.

“Watchya want Sniper?”

The boy played with a piece of his slightly-too-long hair shyly, nervously.

“Poet wants ta speak to Blue” Sniper whispered, staring at the ground. If Race wasn’t used to his quiet manner, he would have missed what Sniper had said. Blue, on the other hand, had not had practice adjusting to Snipers low volumes and therefore hadn’t heard what he had said and was looking at Race expectantly.

“Poet wants ta speak with ya” Race informed her before turning back to Sniper. “Where is he?”

“His room”

Race nodded in understanding.

“Right, okay. You got someone sellin’ with ya Sniper?”

“Yeah, Skittery is”

Race nodded again. (Poet had put a rule in place that all newsies eleven or younger were to sell with an older newsie. Race was the exception because of where he sold though he did have to put up with a daily conversation with Jack or Poet who tried to convince him to sell with someone.)

“Well you had better go find Skittery then, the headline will be out soon. Come on Blue, I’ll show you where Poet's room is” Race instructed, standing and stretching.

  
Sniper rushed off to find Skittery and slowly (and refusing any help Race offered her) Blue rose from the bed, only grimacing minutely when she first put pressure on her leg. Race led her through the bunk room and down the corridor that led to Poet's room, making a conscious effort to reduce his pace. He was a highly energetic boy who could run as fast as the horses at the Sheepshead Races and walked at the speed of someone who was always running late. Race knocked gently on the door of Poet's room and Poet’s tall form soon appeared in the doorway. The Manhattan leader raised an eyebrow at Race.

“And how can I help you?”

“Sniper said you wanna talk ta Blue” Race replied, gesturing to Blue who stood behind him.

“Right, yes. Blue do you mind waiting in here for just a minute I need to speak to Racer for a moment?” Poet asked, stepping out of the way to allow Blue to walk (limp) into his bedroom.

  
Closing the door behind Blue, Poet stood in front of Race, towering over the boy.

“Can I convince ya to sell in Manhattan with someone instead of in Brooklyn by yourself?”

Rolling his eyes on instinct, Race couldn’t control the huff that left his lips. It was always the same with Poet; day in, day out. At least Robin accepted he was fighting a losing battle and let Racer be. That was as long as Race let Robin know of his whereabouts every now and then. He was eleven for Christ’s sake! He should be allowed some freedom, so many of the other newsies were. Jack was.

“No Poet”

“Well you can’t blame me for trying Racer,” – He could. He really, really could. “-you know I just want to keep you safe,” He knew. Those were the words Robin and Poet and sometimes even Jack echoed whenever, wherever. “-and not just because it’s my job but because I care about you Racer.” Oh. That was new.

“I’ll be fine Poet. I is always careful and the Brooklyn boys look out for me.” Race informed him, he felt like the old, ruffled parrot he saw at the Bronx Zoo when he had snuck in once upon a time; always repeating the same, boring old words, hoping to get a different reaction each time he said them.

“Fine, okay, you win Racer.” Poet relented. “You going anywhere tonight?”

Race paused to think, attempting to work out what day it was. _If yesterday was Tuesday then today would be... Wednesday! Yes! No, wait, wait, yes. That was right._ Things like that- simple things- tended to escape him from time to time. Numbers, days, month, the English word, the Italian word.

“I’ll be in Queens for poker night”

Poet nodded in acknowledgement.

“Don’t be back too late. If it's after dark someone walks you back or you stay there for the night, understand?”

“Yes Poet” Race replied, unable to keep the wide grin from spreading across his face.

  
Not that deep down, Race knew that Poet couldn’t really stop him from going to his card nights and social gatherings at the other boroughs in New York regardless of how much he might want to. Race was proud to say that he was the only newsie that was welcome in each borough. By this point, the weekly visits were just a subtle way to give Manhattan an advantage if it ever really needed it. They had a friendly face that they could use to chip in favours if the time called. Not a single leader from any other borough in New York apart from maybe Brooklyn would say no to Racetrack Higgins unless they absolutely had to. They wanted to stay in his good books or rather _someone’s_ good books, someone who Race was close to.

  
Race didn’t really enjoy the knowledge that he was being used as a stand-by bargaining chip but he did enjoy the card games too much to complain in fear of losing them.

“Well you better get going Racer, or you’ll miss them puttin’ up the headline”

“See ya Poet” Race grinned, thankful that their conversation was over. Even as he left, just from the look Race had glanced on Poet's face, he could practically hear the words that wished to tumble from his lips.

 

_Be careful. Look after yourself._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it has been forever, school and work got in the way but now it's the holidays so I should be able to upload more.
> 
> Please comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed.


	6. Trust me

“Right, yes. Blue do you mind waiting in here for just a minute? I need to speak to Racer for a moment.” Poet asked her.

  
Blue did nod but Poet didn’t notice, him having his full attention on Racetrack. Blue had a feeling this had to do with the “protectiveness” Race had mentioned earlier. That would explain the look on his face, the way he clenched his jaw and stared back at Poet with a sharp harshness in his blue eyes. Poet's stare was softer around the edges, it held this specific glint, much like one a parent would have, a parent who was trying to convince their reckless kid to stop doing something they enjoyed but was risky and threatening, not because they wished to take away this joy but rather due to the fact that their child’s safety had to come first.

  
Blue didn’t really know what to make of that, so silently she slipped through the door past Poet who shut it behind her, leaving her in his empty bedroom.

  
The room seemed like a personal palace to Blue despite it bring small and, like the rest of the lodging house, far from best quality. Having no roof let alone having your own room for such a long stretch of time did that to a person. It contained very little and those things were worn down and almost definitely at least second-hand. Regardless of that, Blue couldn’t help but run her hand across the desk in something close to awe. Poet owned a desk, a desk that was _his, all his._

  
Blue had nothing. Though in the back of her mind a timid but sure voice whispered that she had once sort of had a lot. No, it hadn’t been hers exactly, but it had surrounded her. Possessions that was. Much better than a splintering desk or cracked wardrobe or rickety bed. However, that was so long ago. Many harsh, homeless winters had come and gone since then and that shy voice was encased and drowned out by the wonder that snuck into the young girl’s mind.

  
Muffled voices leaked into the room through the thin walls, blurred enough that Blue couldn’t distinguish what they were saying but not so badly she couldn’t pick up on their tones. Race, her newfound friend, sounded irritated, annoyed, bored. Poet, on the other hand, sounded tired, sincere, desperate. Blue caught herself; eavesdropping could get her in trouble and she didn’t want to find out what would happen then. Involuntarily she felt her chest tighten, felt her brain begin to speed up, racing wildly, swirling manic, dark thoughts. _She was going to get trouble, bad things happen when you get in trouble, you get hurt when you get in trouble, she shouldn’t have been listening._ Faster and faster and faster and faster and faster. _Shouldn’t-trouble-hurt-bad-listen-bad-bad-hurt-bad-troubletroubletroublehurtbadhurtbadtrouble._ The hurricane was uncontrollable, inconsolable. Constantly picking up strength and power every second that Blue couldn’t subdue it.

  
Painfully she yanked at her hair, trying to bring herself back. It didn’t work. Her breaths were quickly paced, short and not getting her enough oxygen. Colours and outlines of the room smudged and a dark haze began creeping in front of her eyes. A sharp jolt of pain struck up her leg sending her crashing to the floor in a heap of limbs. The hard contact halting everything. Just like that the hurricane vanished, transforming into a gentle wind that blew two single words round and round. _Freak. Pathetic._

  
Normal ten-year-olds didn’t get storms in their heads. Normal ten-year-olds didn’t get a tightness in their chest that stopped their breathing and made a darkness similar to sleep but harsher, crueller, meaner, come. She was a freak.

  
Frightened, unsure, fearful, Blue observed the room, eyes dancing over and taking in every minuscule detail. She needed to get off the floor, Poet would ask questions if he found her like this. Attempting to get off of the floor she pushed up with both her arms, only succeeding in causing a similar jolt of pain to shoot through her bad arm. She was stuck. Bottom lip beginning to tremble, the little girl could not help but let her emotions get the better of her. She was only a child.

  
It was in this state and in the middle of the floor that Poet found her. The look of utter panic that passed over his face was comedic. He rushed to her side and Blue desperately tried to wipe away her tears, to no avail. Gently Poet helped her to her feet; he was so much bigger than her. Fresh pain shot up her leg, causing more tears to fall. Poet did his best to carefully move her to the bed, before crouching in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” Poet cooed, wiping her tears away.

Blue shook her head. She couldn’t tell him because she might get in trouble then she might get – she hit the brakes on that thought process; she didn’t want to go all funny again.

“My leg...my leg hurt...real bad” She murmured.

“Okay. Okay, well is it hurting still?” Poet sounded so unsure.

“No” It wasn’t quite true but the pain had dulled considerably.

“That’s good. So you ain’t gonna sell today-”

“I-I-I can still sell. I ain’t gonna be able to pay if I don’t!” Blue protested desperately.

Poet hushed her with a stern look.

“You can start sellin’ tomorrow, it’ll be with Robin by the way. Robin and Jack will pay your rent this week and you should be good to go by next week. As for today, I's gonna show you around after we get some breakfast, then I’ll explain a bunch of things. Got it?”

“Yes!” Blue nodded eagerly, she got to sell tomorrow! She couldn’t wait!

  
The pair headed down to breakfast, Blue stubbornly refusing assistant when it came to the stairs. She wanted to prove she could look after herself just fine, she had been doing it for long enough.

  
The kitchen was small, rough around the edges and, like the rest of the lodging house, grimy. But it was a kitchen and it had been far too long since Blue had been in one of these.

  
“Sit” Poet instructed, pulling out a chair.

The table and chairs were covered with little scrapes and dents, the wood worn and discoloured. Blue ran her small, dainty fingers over the table, the ones from her good arm of course. Her bad arm had decided to ache uncomfortably and Blue had it tucked into her chest like she always did when it hurt; it kept it out of the way. After grabbing two plates and placing them on the table, one in front of Blue and the other next to her, Poet grabbed some bread, buttering it before settling down in the seat beside Blue. It wasn’t a lot of food but all Blue could focus on was that it was some food. She had been hungry for so long!

  
The two ate silently to begin with before Poet nudged Blue with his shoulder.

“So, you’ve met Racer.”

“Yes, this morning”

“You like him?”

Blue stopped to think about that. She had argued- kinda -with Race, but he was very nice and entertaining as well.

She settled on saying, “He’s weird.”

Poet barked out a laugh that caused Blue to jump slightly.

“That’ll be Racer. He's a good kid though, cheeky, don’t really like being told what ta do though. Don’t you go letting him convince you to join him in his troublemaking because he’ll try.” Poet warned. Blue couldn’t help but smile at the fondness in the older boys tone. “Hang on. Why was Racer up so early?”

Remembering Race's words, Blue’s eyes widened. She couldn’t tell Poet the truth, but then she was going to have to lie and she didn’t want to do that. _What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him._

“I woke him up. I fell out of bed and my leg went all funny so I couldn’t get up. He helped me.” It was technically a half-truth.

“By ‘all funny' do you mean it seizes up?”

Blue let out a breath she was surprised to find she was holding at the change in subject. Poet had been oblivious to her deceit.

Due to her moment of relief, it took a couple of seconds to register that she had been asked a question. ‘Seizes’. What on earth did ‘seizes’ mean?

“I don’t know what that means” she admitted sheepishly.

“Does it, like, go all sorta stiff an' ya can’t make it move?” Poet expanded his explanation.

Her leg did get like that, it hurt too.

“Yeah, but not always sometimes its just a bit achy, a bit difficult to walk on”

Poet nodded, buried deep in thought. Blue finished her bread.

“Right then. Okay” Poet said slamming is hands done on the table and pushing his chair quite abruptly causing Blue to jump and flinch away slightly. Poet didn’t notice. “We better get on.”

Poet stood, picking up his empty plate and putting it in the small sink. “We’s in charge of looking after ourselves, which means washin’ up after ya self, otherwise Kloppman will be after ya head.”

Blue nodded in understanding before taking her own plate to the sink, washing it, drying it with the grubby towel and putting it in the same cupboard Poet had put his in. She had had to stand on tiptoes, which had hurt a little bit, in order to reach.

“Tour time” Poet announced, smiling brightly, holding the kitchen door open. “After you”.

Poet began by showing her the rest of the downstairs. This included a small sitting room for the newsies to hang out in. He explained that they often held card games in there. This intrigued Blue, she thought it sounded fun and Poet said she should ask Race to teach her as the boy had mastered most games by now. He had a talent when it came to anything that included gambling. Poet didn’t sound all to pleased about that. Next Poet showed her where she would pay her rent: Kloppman's office. This included the desk she had walked past the day before when she had first arrived. Kloppman was sitting behind the desk and Poet tipped his hat in greeting. Kloppman replied with a grunt, barely looking up from the book he was reading. Blue waved meekly and the old man gave her a small, subtle, kind smile. She had already seen the kitchen so Poet lead her up the stairs (with minimal difficulty this time).

  
Once upstairs Blue found herself in the dorm room again. Poet began to point to different beds and explaining who slept there and a little snippet about them:

“That’s Jack’s and Crutchie's bunk. You’ve already met Jack... Crutchie's a real nice kid, very positive, you'll like him...”

He'd point to another bed and Blue would follow the direction of his finger hoping she was looking at the right bunk.

“That’s Stitch's and Racer's bunk. Stitch don’t stay here all the time – he got folks and all that... You’ve met Racer already as well, only takes one meeting with Racer...”

Weaving through the maze of bunks, Poet would pause and explain who slept at the bunk he stood by.

“Specs sleeps up there. Very responsible that boy, though I wouldn’t go and cause trouble when he’s around... Patch and Buttons share the bed below. They’re Stitch's brothers. Patch is the eldest and Buttons, the youngest. Button don’t like being away from his brothers cause he gets nervous, though you wouldn’t guess it when he's with the rest of the lil'uns...”

Blue was pretty sure she had met Specs when she had first arrived. She was sure that was what Jack had addressed the boy as and he had had spectacles, smudged and smeared with dirt, so the chances of her being correct were high.

“JoJo sleeps up there. I ain’t ever seen that kid not smilin'. He’s the same age as you, I think, no ones quite sure. That just how it is for a lot of us here...”

The thought that she would meet someone her own age excited. Friends had been an absence in her life for, well, forever. So far she had made friends with Poet and Robin, who were very nice and possibly Jack and Race, who were also very nice and soon she might make even more!

“Sniper sleeps up there. You’ve met Sniper I think. I sent him to find Racer. He's the youngest here. Real good at shootin’ things, he is, but he is real shy. Don’t get offended or somethin’ if he don’t speak to ya, it ain’t personal or nothin’... Henry sleeps underneath. He’s pretty new, only been here for a couple months. I don’t know much about him to be honest, just he's good friends with Sniper. I ain’t heard Sniper talk so much before...”

Blue had been curious about the little boy addressed as Sniper. She had thought him a little...odd.

“Itey sleeps over there with Skittery below. Itey's odd but friendly enough... He comes from Europe. Tell you all about it if you ask him... They both is fourteen...Him and Skittery are real good friends. See, Skittery has these glum moods he gets, worse than normal people’s slumps. Before Itey came no one knew how to help. Well in fairness, still no one knows how to help but he’s got Itey and that works well enough...”

Poet moved to another bunk, Blue trailed behind him.

“Finch’s bed is right here. He’s around a year older than you. Kid owns a slingshot so watch out for that, he’s still working on his aim...

Robin sleeps down there with Tommy Boy above ‘im... Tommy Boy's Jack's age. Twelve that is...Kid keeps to himself. Don’t cause no trouble...

“Make sure ya don't touch anything here, Kid Blink dont take kindly to people touchin’ his stuff... He got his name due to his eyepatch. Missin’ an eye he is. Make sure not ask bout it though, he don’t kindly to that either. In fact he dont take kindly to a lot of things. Has a bit of a temper, that one...Angriest eleven-year-old I ever met, quite impressive really... Long as you is on his good side you’ll be fine...”

Blue was very concerned with remaining on this “Kid Blink’s” good side.

  
Poet continued to point and move and explain until he reached a bed which Blue recognised as the one she slept in the night before.

“So that’ll be your bed, a bed costs six cents, dinner is the same as is breakfast. Normally we just eat somewhere else. Tibby's is the common choice or Jacobi's which is the only pub I let the newsies spend their time in.” Post explained, taking a seat on Blue's bed, (she had a bed! All to herself!) before patting the space next to him, inviting Blue to join him. “Monday is laundry day, Wednesday we clean the windows. Understand?”

Blue nodded carefully. In all honesty, it was all a bit much, all these names and who slept where and now these rules.

“Lights out is at nine and nine-thirty is curfew. You won’t be let in without a pass. Twelve o’clock, no one is let in regardless if you have a pass or not. Waking time is five o'clock and everyone has to be out by seven. I think that's everything."  Poet finished, before taking a look at Blue's uncertain face and adding quickly, “don’t stress though, all the older boys have gotcha. Everyone looks after everyone.”

“okay” Blue replied meekly.

“You just gotta trust me. I's promise you’re gonna be safe and happy here”

 _She had heard that before_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm alive! Sorry I've been gone so long and sorry that this is just a filled chapter. I've been really ill of late and very consumed by school but I'm going to try my best to complete this regardless.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments and kudos are loved and cherished as always but no pressure.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


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